Nothing to Give
by ketchupblood
Summary: When Tezuka had first heard that gypsies were on their way to the city, he thought about it for a moment before deciding that it was a good thing. [AU][Prompt: I am king in everything when with a wanton gypsy.][Tezuka x Fuji]


_ 2. I am a king in everything when with a wanton gypsy_

When Tezuka had first heard that gypsies were on their way to the city, he had taken a moment to think of that fact then decided that it was a good thing; performances by gypsies meant that there were more people out at any given times, or at least at more times than normal, and that meant more business for the shop, which could really use any business that it could get. Still, that hardly meant that Tezuka approved of their way of life and he sincerely hoped that they would come and leave quickly—the city was bad enough without even more bad influences on its people, no matter how much business the bad influence might attract.

When they came, though, it was to find his shop—the only semi-respectable shop in that area of the city—fully stocked with new cloths and plenty of mostly fresh fruits that he knew would tempt any traveler. It was difficult to find any fresh produce at this time of winter even so far south. The land was practically a desert and there was little by way of vegetation; the south relied heavily on the countries to the north to supply their people with food. Thus, fruits sold very well, especially to travelers who had been deprived of real food for who knows how long and would have looked at a half rotten pear as a delicacy. Not that Tezuka had half rotten pears, but neither were the fruits perfectly fresh. It was difficult to keep them from drying out, though, especially without the benefits that the stores in better areas had such as the natural caverns underneath the city, and they were, while not rotten, certainly not in the best of shape. They were certainly in good enough condition that there was quite a crowd in his shop that afternoon, though.

Such a crowd, in fact, that he didn't even realize when one of his customers wasn't one of his regulars until the customer asked him what the price for flour was, pointing at the large sacks of flour that Tezuka kept behind the counter. Then he looked at the boy's (or was it a man's?) face and realized that he was quite obviously not from this city at all—he was too pale for the southern city. Tezuka answered, "Fifty pennies."

The man—Tezuka had decided that he was a man; his build was slight but the way his muscles rippled under his tight fitting shirt was powerful and no boy could have that much hidden power—dug into a pouc that he had pulled out and produced two silver coins. "Ah, I don't have fifty pennies on me. Would two silver crowns suffice?"

"What crowns?" Tezuka asked. Southern crowns were worth twenty-five pennies each; northern ones only worth around ten.

"The southern peninsula." The stranger said. "It really is beautiful there, you know, and they give such wonderful tips."

"You are a gypsy, then." Tezuka stated and then, "Two silver crowns will do."

"Yes, I am." The man handed the crowns to Tezuka and continued, "You can call me Fuji. We're only going to be here for a short while. It's so cold up north, you know. I do hope you'll come to see us perform."

"Perhaps." Tezuka answered and turned around to get the bag of flower.

"So what should I call you?" Tezuka could hear teasing in Fuji's voice and he was almost certain that the gypsy was trying to lead to something inappropriate.

Still, he was too rude to not answer, so he said, "Tezuka."

"Tezuka, huh?" Fuji thought for a moment. "It fits you."

"Here." Tezuka gave him the bag of flour.

"Thank you." Fuji took the bag without any trouble. "If you do come, we're camped right out the city. I'd like it if you would visit me."

Tezuka nodded, not promising anything but not denying it either. It seemed enough for Fuji, though, because he smiled before he left. Tezuka watched him leave, actually considering going to see the gypsy show, before turning back to his next customer.

-x-

Tezuka ended up going, not because he intended to or wanted to but because his mother who, despite having aged considerably in the short time since his father had died, still loved performances and refused to go alone, no matter how much her son might dislike going with her. They threaded their way through the crowd, carefully avoiding the children running around their legs and the harried but excited mothers trying to keep up with them and the young women, so excited to see the scantily clad gypsy men and the men so excited to see the scantily clad gypsy women.

Eventually, they found a spot that offered a relatively good view of the clearing where the performance would take place and Tezuka realized with some annoyance that not only would he have to waste time watching this farce of an art but he would have to wait for the dubious privilege too. But Tezuka was a model son—one of the best, surely—and if his mother wanted him to stay and watch this dance with her then he would. So he stood in place, straight and proud and rather bored, and waited for them to begin.

"You came." Fuji's voice was pleased, barely concealed delight evident. Tezuka refused to show his shock though, judging from the mirth in Fuji's eyes, he hadn't hidden it so well either.

"Yes." Tezuka said, not really in the mood for conversation.

Especially with someone like Fuji, whose face was carefully painted for the performance and whose body was barely covered by the silken apparel that gypsies performed in, various shades of blue that were no doubt supposed to bring his eyes out. Tezuka thought it looked foolish and would have said so, if it would not have been so blatantly impolite. Instead, he just turned his attention elsewhere, anywhere else, in hopes that Fuji would get the idea and just leave him alone.

Needless to say, Fuji didn't get it and leaned closer. "I'm glad you came." He said, voice lilting and too melodious to be real. No doubt it had been practiced for the show that Tezuka was about to have the misfortune to watch. "I wasn't sure you would."

Tezuka hummed in what might have sounded like agreement and wondered when Fuji would leave. Thankfully, Fuji either decided to obey Tezuka's wishes or the performance was about to start, because he said, "I hope you enjoy the performance, then" and was gone.

"That was such a charming boy!" Tezuka's mother exclaimed and Tezuka nodded politely. She laughed and gently smacked him. "Stop worrying so much, Kunimitsu. You can go home and deal with the accounts and the shop all you want in an hour. Just enjoy yourself for now, alright?"

"Yes, mother." He answered. She rolled her eyes, because she knew he wouldn't and he smiled a little, because she knew him too well.

-x-

The show started not much later, with a clash of music that should not have sounded like anything other than sound, the instruments were so unique and unbalanced, but that sounded distinctly melodious even to Tezuka's tone-deaf ears. Then Fuji was in the clearing, appearing without any warning and with all the grace of a sack of potatoes, falling over himself and into a heap on the floor and staying there. A murmur and not a few chuckles went through the crowd, and Fuji still didn't move.

Then a woman's voice started singing, a traditional ballad against not so traditional instruments telling a story that was familiar but sounded so strange. The story of Miltan and Herach, the injured soldier and the fair maiden who nursed him back to health. As she sang, a second dancer came into the clearing and acted through the story that they all knew with Fuji and Tezuka was sure that he heard several girls around him sigh and he really didn't care. All his attention was on Fuji, who had started walking, staggering occasionally, yes, but walking on his own without the girl's aid.

Then he was running.

And dancing.

And then the dance wasn't just a dance, it was an art. Their bodies twined around each other, sinuous and fluid and lighter than air and Tezuka didn't even realize he was holding his breath until he could hold it no longer and had to let it out. The performance ended too soon and the audience was tossing coins into a basket that the gypsies had set out in a circle around the clearing and Fuji was bowing with the girl and everyone was clapping. It didn't matter to them that they had come to see twenty gypsies; even the uneducated workers who were the only ones willing to see gypsies dance knew how impressive a show they had been given.

Tezuka's mother had been moved to tears. Even Tezuka slipped his hand into his belt pouch and pulled out a few coins to put into the little baskets.

"You enjoyed it, then?" Fuji's voice was a little harsh and his breathing came quickly. He must have been tired by the performance and Tezuka could see why.

"It was..." Tezuka searched for a word, doubting that he knew any that could describe what he had just seen. He settled for something less, because he had nothing more. "Amazing."

Fuji shrugged. "Not good enough." He said and, when Tezuka opened his mouth to disagree because Tezuka thought that praise should always be given where it was due, continued, "We needed much more than just this." He pointed to the baskets.

Tezuka looked. The baskets were hardly full—no matter how much the audience appreciated the show they were also living at the very edges of what they could afford and at the very edge of what they could survive on. The gypsies weren't likely to get any more from these people and Tezuka told Fuji so.

"I know." Fuji said. "But we..." He closed his mouth and took a deep breath, to steady his thoughts or to redirect them, Tezuka didn't know, and continued again, "But we won't be able to go for a while."

Tezuka didn't know what went across his mind right then; certainly nothing rational. He opened his mouth and said, "You are welcome to stay in what shelter I can provide."

The moment it left his mouth, he regretted it. He owned a small inn, inherited from his grandfather, but the inn was slovenly and ill kept. Tezuka made nothing from it and would have as soon torn it down as let another human inhabit it, but that tearing it down took either money or time, both of which Tezuka was dreadfully short of. All his income came from the store, at any rate.

An offer was an offer, though, and could not be taken back. So Tezuka waited for Fuji to respond. He didn't have to wait long, Fuji thought for nearly two seconds before letting his face break into a smile, a bigger smile, a more real smile, and saying, "Thank you, Tezuka."

Tezuka nodded and said apologetically, "It's not in the best condition, but it should be better than the outdoors."

"We're in no position to complain, Tezuka." Fuji said. "I... really, thank you."

Tezuka nodded again.

"Ah, I hope you don't mind if I go to tell the rest." Fuji said. "I... where should I find you?"

"I'll just wait here." Tezuka answered.

Fuji looked taken aback, his eyes widened and open enough that the blue was startling instead of just appealing, and he said, "Alright" and then he was gone.

"Kunimitsu."

Tezuka turned to look at his mother, who must have been listening the whole time.

"Why don't I go back first?" Her smile said that she knew everything he wasn't saying and that she was teasing him; he didn't understand what she must have known because he didn't think there was anything special to know. "I'm sure I can get a few of the boys that always hang around the store to clean the inn to make it at least a little presentable."

"Ah." He smiled at his mother who always, somehow or another, managed to give him everything he had ever wanted. "Thank you, Mother."

She pulled him into a quick embrace. Displays of emotion were rare and frowned upon, but a mother hugging her son was nothing to be ashamed of. Then she walked slowly, dignified in her old age, back into the town to gather the boys.

Fuji didn't take very long to come back, an older man in tow. "Tezuka, this is Ogata. He's the head of our group. Ogata, Tezuka."

"It's a pleasure." Tezuka said.

"Likewise." Ogata looked him over. "Why are you willing to give us shelter?"

Tezuka looked at him and he wondered. There was no real reason for him to offer them anything; he had only met Fuji hours ago and he didn't even like him very much. Offering them a place to stay solely because he liked their performance was silly, but there was no other possible reason. Such a peculiar kindness was an unnecessary thing in this instance—surely they could afford another place, cheap as rooms came in some areas—and Tezuka did not do unnecessary things. So all he could do, then, was shrug and say, "I don't know."

It seemed good enough for the old man and he bowed slightly. "Then we thank you for your kindness."

"It's not in the best condition," Tezuka apologized, thinking it perhaps better that they knew now before they stepped foot in it, "But it should be better than staying outside of city limits."

He nodded. "Again, we thank you."

"Not at all." Tezuka said. "If you're not busy, I can take you to the inn now and give you the keys, so you can take the rest of your companions there later, when it's best for you." And if they went now, Tezuka could return to the store sooner.

Ogata smiled at him. "That would be wonderful."

"Alright." Tezuka started making his way through the crowd and Ogata followed him and, when Tezuka looked back to make sure, he realized that Ogata wasn't really following him. The old man was really following Fuji who was following him, and hiding the same smile on his face as Tezuka's mother had been. For some reason, the knowledge annoyed Tezuka and only his obsessive good manners kept him from walking faster. At any rate, he was fairly certain that Ogata was in better shape than he was; Tezuka barely had time for a quick run every morning before the store took up the rest of his days and Ogata surely had to travel with the gypsy caravan through the difficult terrain that was the city's first line of defense.

Indeed, walking faster would have been more than useless, Tezuka realized a few minutes later. The gates to the city had been crowded by the audience from the show and they would have had to wait either way. He sighed; he hadn't planned for this.

"Is it always like this?" Fuji asked, motioning towards the crowd.

Tezuka shook his head. "No, your audience must want return home now."

"Ah." Fuji said. "So I suppose this would be my fault, huh? Sorry, Tezuka."

Tezuka blinked, a little surprised and a little confused. Then he started. How did he...?

"You're too easy to read, Tezuka." Ogata said, teasingly. "You shouldn't be so surprised that Fuji could guess at your thoughts."

"Ah." Tezuka said before carefully looking away, reminded suddenly of why he disliked gypsies. It was impolite to be so open or friendly with someone whom they had just met minutes ago and social conventions like that should always be obeyed. Particularly that one, since its purpose was clearer than most of the etiquette that city folk followed.

They must have noted his discomfort then, because neither Fuji nor Ogata said anything more to Tezuka until they were in the city and walking through one of the slums to the inn. Then Tezuka spoke.

"This area isn't the best in the city but no one really breaks in when they know that there is nothing worth stealing and most who stay in any inn near here have nothing to steal." He said, trying to assure himself as much as trying to assure them. "As long as you don't try to carry anything overly flashy in here, there shouldn't be any problems."

Ogata laughed. "So concerned! Don't worry, young man. I've survived more than enough; I'll manage living in an inn on the wrong side of town for a few days."

Tezuka remained dubious on that point but there was little else he could say or do and so he continued to lead them through the streets. Thankfully, the inn was in a slightly better area so he could worry maybe a bit less, but it was hardly a good place for anyone to stay in. The inn itself, while structurally sound, was not in an area that Tezuka wished to visit in order to run it and so he had let it fall into disuse. It was, to say the least, in a mess though in much less of a mess than when he had seen it a few months ago on the yearly visits that he made with the tax collector—to assure him that Tezuka was making no money off of the place. His mother had done a good job and the boys were all scrubbing away, evidence of cookie crumbs obvious on their faces and their eyes happy with the promise of a few pennies later.

"They're cleaning the inn for me," he explained to Ogata and to Fuji, "Because I haven't used it in a while and it's in a bit of a mess."

"Ah, so you aren't worried about boys in this area, just old men like me?" Ogata said, winking at Tezuka, though Tezuka had no idea why. "I'm touched that you care so much."

Tezuka stiffened. "The boys grew up here; the locals won't hurt them."

"He didn't mean to offend." Fuji apologized quickly. "He just isn't used to talking to respectable folk."

"Is that any way to talk about your uncle?" Ogata demanded.

Fuji smiled at him sweetly. "Apologies."

Tezuka decided just to ignore the strange exchange they had and reached into his pocket and frowned. His keys weren't there.

"Kunimitsu." His mother walked towards them, her dress a little dirty. Tezuka sighed. He should have known that she would try to tidy up as well. "You should have delayed them. The inn isn't nearly ready."

"Mother." Tezuka started to explain himself but remembered that it would be rude to talk to her without introducing her to Fuji or to Ogata and quickly changed what he wanted to say. "This is Fuji and Ogata—" he motioned to them in turn "—and this is my mother."

She smiled and nodded at them. Women didn't shake hands with men, normally. Ogata must not have known that fact, because he held his out and she looked at it for a moment before laughing, clear and carefree, and reached out to take it. "A pleasure." She said.

"Indeed." Ogata said, giving her a smile. "I can't believe you're his mother; surely you're too young?"

"What a flirt." She said, eyes twinkling.

"Mother." Tezuka said, interrupting whatever it was that she was about to say. "I would have delayed them but I thought it best to show them the hotels and give them the keys before returning to the store."

Ogata let go of her hands. "Your son is very responsible, you know." He said to Tezuka's mother.

"Isn't he, though?" She beamed at Tezuka and said, "You need to take it easy sometime, dear."

"Yes, mother." Tezuka sighed. She would no doubt nag him about this later. "Do you have the keys? I must have left mine at home."

She nodded and pointed to the inn. "They're right on the table in the first room, you know the one, dear."

"I'll just go get them, then." He said and walked in, intending to get them and go again. Ogata could realize on his own that his mother wasn't interested; Tezuka wasn't worried on that count, and it was almost the busiest hour for the store.

He was surprised to find that Fuji followed him in. "I'm sorry about my uncle." Fuji said. "He really doesn't mean to be rude, it's just that we haven't really dealt with many people other than our caravan for a while and he isn't very used to dealing with reputable business people."

Tezuka didn't want to know what they normally did so he just nodded and assured Fuji that it was alright. Fuji didn't leave, though, so Tezuka continued to the first room, knowing that he might have been rude but he was too rushed to worry overly much about it. People weren't liable to spend much in winter and he might have been better off than most of them, but it was little excuse to be careless enough to turn away more. Sooner or later his mother would need medicines as her health failed and those never came cheaply.

Fuji apparently didn't find it rude at all, though, and followed Tezuka even into the bedroom. "This is a beautiful inn." He said, and Tezuka wondered how terrible the inns they frequented were. The dilapidated old inn that had been in his family for generations and disregarded for just about as long was nearly falling apart; the wood was old and unpolished and the carpets frayed. The paint that had been put on by his grandfather had lost its color and peeled away in places.

"There are better." Tezuka said, aware of how much of an understatement that was.

Fuji glanced at him, eyes clear and reproaching. "The architecture is beautiful." He clarified. "The inn has a history." He pointed to a small watermark on the wall. "See there? That stain has a story."

Tezuka glanced at the mark and then scanned the room for the keys. "Not much of a story. I was running around as a child and I knocked a bowl of oils over."

"That's a story." Fuji said. Then he pointed on the bed. "Your mother's memory fails her. The keys are right there."

Tezuka looked at Fuji, wondering, for a moment, then walked to the bed. "Thank you."

"Not at all." Fuji said. "So you used to come here as a child?"

"No." Tezuka said. "I came with my grandfather once, when he was closing it down. The oils were probably left here by the last tenant of the room."

"Another story, then." Fuji said.

"Hardly." Tezuka answered. He started to go out and give the keys to Ogata, but thought better of it and held them out to Fuji. "Here are your keys. I hope you don't mind if I go back to the store and leave you here."

Fuji took them, casually. "Not at all. Enjoy your day, Tezuka."

Tezuka nodded and then he left. On his way through the slums to his store, he wondered why he felt like he had given away so much in those brief moments in that little room when he had always thought that there was nothing to give.

-x-

Tezuka's mother came home later that night completely dirty and looking very pleased with herself. "You know, Kunimitsu, I've heard..." She walked to the kitchen and examined the food that they had available, "...that you were worried sick over your new guests being in the poor quarters."

"Mother?" Tezuka didn't know where she was going with this, but since he rarely ever knew what she was leading to it didn't surprise him much.

"I'm hurt, Kunimitsu." She said, placing a hand over her heart and another over her mouth—to cover a smile, no doubt. "You never worry about me when I go down there."

"You're not staying overnight." He said seriously. "And you know how to take care of yourself."

Apparently that was too much for her for she laughed. Then she told him to cut the carrots while she took a quick bath and to boil the water for some stew. He frowned but obeyed, because he always obeyed. She said that it would have made him the perfect husband, but she knew that he had no interest in marrying (though he really should, she had said, because he needed to continue the line, though she no doubt just wanted the grandchildren). Still, he supposed he should look for a wife sometime, however much he might dislike it.

-x-

The next day, Tezuka woke up as usual, ate breakfast, talked with his mother, took his morning run, washed up, told his mother he was leaving, opened the store, and took out the record books, just like he always did. Of course, he found it in a mess from the few hours he had left it to his apprentice the day before and he held back a groan. He hardly enjoyed doing records, especially early in the morning, but neither could he leave anything in such a mess, because it wasn't in his nature to do so. So he took out a quill and sat down behind the counter, not expecting a customer for a good hour or so.

"Tezuka." Tezuka looked up from the records he was trying to rerecord to see Fuji standing in front of the counter with several jars of preserved peaches. "The inn is very nice. My sister says that I should thank you for your hospitality again."

"Don't mention it." Tezuka said. He had woken up that morning wondering just what he had been thinking the night before; certainly no rational thought could have crossed his mind when he offered to let gypsies stay in his inn, and for free at that.

Fuji smiled and placed the jars on the counter. "How much for these?"

"Ten silver crowns." Tezuka said.

Fuji took out a small pouch and fished the coins out. "Anyways, my sister told me to ask you, if you had time, to have dinner with us. It sounds silly, huh? Me inviting you to your inn? Well, my sister will be making noodles. You'll really like them."

Tezuka took the coins. "Thank you for the offer."

"We'll be practicing, too." Fuji continued, apparently not aware that Tezuka was trying very hard to find a polite way to refuse. "I've heard that there was a show house in the city that let travelers perform and since we'd be here a while my sister said we should give it a try."

"You must be working very hard." Tezuka couldn't deny that he was tempted; they were very talented performers, though he was sure that the excitement he'd felt the last time was only heightened by memory and not quite as grand as he'd thought before. "I'll think on it."

Fuji looked like he wanted to say more, but all he did was take the cans again, performing an amazing feat of balance and somehow managing to hold them so that none fell, and bid Tezuka goodbye.

Tezuka returned to his records, feeling guilty for something and strangely rushed. No customers should have been coming in for another hour at the very least, and none did. Then the normal morning stream of customers came in and it started to drizzle outside. Tezuka looked outside a little wistfully. It was supposed to be one of the busiest workdays of the week today; the third day of the week always was. He had planned to hike in the woods for an hour or two that afternoon but it would have been miserable in that weather.

The weather also meant that no one came in; it wasn't raining hard enough to keep workers from working but the rain was more than enough to keep the housewives from wanting to leave their comfortable homes to buy foodstuffs. Even Tezuka—who took care to always watch over the store at all times, for fear of robbers or inept assistant, he didn't know—left the store in favor of home, guessing that no one would bother go that day and that he might as well just let someone else sit idly behind the counter.

When he got home, though, he found a note on the kitchen table saying that he had the house to himself; his mother had gone to visit the nice gypsies that Tezuka had let stay in his inn and Ogata had invited them to dinner—Tezuka was to dress appropriately and mind his manners. Tezuka didn't bother bite back the groan that forced its way out of his lips. No one was around to hear, anyways. He spent the rest of the afternoon sitting around idly at home and wondering just why he couldn't sit idly at the store instead and then, at around dinnertime, he got up, checked quickly that he was, indeed, dressed appropriately though he couldn't see why it would matter, and threw on a jacket against the rain that had started pouring a little harder.

The inn cleaned up... not so nicely, but not so badly that it was shameful, either. It was really no worse than the rest of the buildings on the street and Tezuka didn't feel so bad about it right then, but he had a feeling he would later, if he had to see the building in the sunlight when its flaws would be obvious to all and sundry. But the sun wasn't out then and for that moment it was enough and so he walked in and was immediately assaulted by the fragrant smell of heavy northern spices and cooked meat. He must have stood there for at least a short moment being shocked, because the next thing he knew Fuji was there and taking his coat as if this was Fuji's home and he was just visiting. "I'm glad you came." Fuji said.

"Thank you for having me." Tezuka said, returning with the polite phrase that made almost no sense right then.

"My pleasure." Fuji said, mirth sparkling in his eyes. "Let me introduce you to everyone."

Tezuka nodded and was promptly dragged to another room, where ten people crowded together around two more who were sprawled on the bed, a deck of playing cards between them. Fuji pointed them all out, listing names that Tezuka knew he wouldn't remember later, and then Fuji introduced Tezuka and they all smiled and laughed and made little jokes and then Fuji took him to the next room, where there were more people and more cards, only they were older and there was money out too. Fuji introduced him again and they were more formal this time, thanking him for the use of his inn. Tezuka nodded seriously and told them it wasn't a problem and wondered if he would tire of that phrase soon.

They went through five more of the inn's thirty rooms before Fuji brought him to the kitchen area, which had cleaned up very nicely, though if Tezuka remembered right, it had always been the only room in the house that had been anything even slightly presentable. A pity, really, since it was the only room that guests never saw. Fuji pointed to the woman he had danced with the previous day. "And this is my sister, Yumiko."

Yumiko didn't look up from the large bowl she was stirring. "Syuusuke, I told you that you're not allowed in the kitchen."

"I know, nee-san." Fuji said. "But this is Tezuka and he's letting us use his inn, so I thought that I should introduce you two."

"Later, Syuusuke." Yumiko said. "I'm sorry, Tezuka, but I can't leave this right now."

"No, it's not a problem." Tezuka found that he really was getting tired of that phrase.

She glanced up quickly and smiled. "Out, you two."

"Yes, nee-san." Fuji said and obediently dragged Tezuka out. "I'm sorry, I just tried cooking once and now they won't let me near the food anymore."

"Oh?" Tezuka remembered both times Fuji had come to buy from the store in the last two days. Uncooked food must have been alright, he supposed.

"I just put a few spices into the stew that they said didn't work well without. I didn't think it was _bad_, though..." Fuji said, pouting a little.

Tezuka didn't think that a grown man should pout, but neither could a grown man be lectured, so he didn't say anything and Fuji must have been waiting for Tezuka to speak, because he didn't say anything either. After a few awkward moments, Fuji realized that Tezuka wasn't planning to say anything, because he said, "Well, since you're here and I need someone to help me practice, I suppose you'll just have to do it, then" and Tezuka didn't even realize until they were standing in what had once been the 'king's room' of the inn, but had been cleared out, its furniture pushed into the hall so that it was impossible to walk through without tripping (though Fuji somehow managed), and Fuji was dancing that he had just been volunteered to watch the gypsy dance.

It hadn't just been memory that made the dance so beautiful, apparently. Even without the music or the crowd, Fuji's body swayed perfectly with whatever beat Tezuka imagined that there must have been in Fuji's mind. This time, though, Tezuka realized that he didn't dance with fluid grace like he had thought before; Fuji was no more insubstantial than the chair that Tezuka had pulled into the room. He danced with a presence, with the grace of a predator and the surety of a trained warrior.

He caught Tezuka's eyes and Tezuka couldn't look away and then the dance couldn't end fast enough, because Tezuka felt like he couldn't breath while Fuji danced, while Fuji took his attention away from everything else. Finally, it ended and Fuji was looking at him and smiling and asking, "How was it?"

Tezuka took a moment to catch his breath, as if he had been the one dancing and not Fuji, and then he said, "Still amazing."

Fuji beamed at him and would have said something but Yumiko, who must have come in the room while Tezuka was entranced, said before he could, "Your footing was a little off for all of the third beats."

Fuji frowned and did a step again, looking at his sister the whole time. "Better?"

"A bit." She said. "You two should come down, now. It's just finished cooking and they won't leave any for you otherwise."

"Yes, nee-san." Fuji said. Then he turned to Tezuka, "Your mother should be here too. Shall we go down?"

Tezuka let Fuji lead the way down, wondering why he could affect Tezuka so much by doing so little. Because it hadn't been the dance that had captured Tezuka; it had been Fuji's eyes, which had been wide open and focused on him the entire time.

-x-

The next time Tezuka saw Fuji, it was right after he had finished cutting two yards of cloth for an old woman who had given him little sandwiches when he'd come home from helping his father at work as a kid. Fuji had looked at the old woman and then at the cloth and asked Tezuka for around three yards of it, because it would go well with his costume. Tezuka had raised an eyebrow and complied, because he supposed the town girls would have murdered him if he hadn't; Fuji and his shows had apparently attracted quite a following. "A new one?" he asked, because in the few weeks since Fuji had bothered coming to see him and in which he hadn't bothered looking for Fuji, the gypsies had established themselves in town enough that they didn't seem much like gypsies anymore.

"No, an old one." Fuji said, smiling. "It's the old fable about the cat."

"Ah." Tezuka said, measuring the cloth.

Fuji watched him, a little too intent for Tezuka's comfort. "I heard that you went to dinner with a nice girl who was about the right age for marrying."

It sounded like an accusation, so Tezuka looked up, confused. Fuji just smiled at him. "Your mother told me. She's been coming over regularly to visit with Ogata."

Ah. That was it. It made sense, in a way, that she would visit him. It had been ages since anyone had flirted with her and if those stories everyone used to tell Tezuka was true, his mother had always liked flirting, though she had always made it very clear that she meant nothing by it. Tezuka supposed that this was the same thing, though he felt it was none of Fuji's business whether or not he was seeing a nice girl whose father was looking for a son-in-law. "Yes, I did."

"Did you like her?" Fuji wanted to know.

"Does it matter?" Tezuka asked. It was his duty to marry and she was as good a bride as any.

Fuji looked at him, then outside the door that Tezuka kept open. "I suppose not."

Tezuka looked back down at the cloth and returned to cutting it. Fuji didn't say anything else and, once Tezuka finished, took the cloth, dropped the correct sum on the counter (how Fuji knew was beyond Tezuka), and left.

Tezuka returned to tending the shop, feeling like he had just kicked a helpless puppy very, very hard, which was entirely irrational because Fuji was neither helpless nor a puppy in either literal or metaphorical sense. Still, he felt very guilty even later that night, when he sat across a pretty girl who smiled at him and poured him tea exactly as he liked it.

She would complain to her father later that Tezuka was too cold and he would go to Tezuka's mother and they would call off the proposed engagement and Tezuka wouldn't mind. Until then, though, she smiled nicely and falsely and offered him some little treats which he politely and coolly accepted.

-x-

No store was allowed to open that day, the day the old king had died, so Tezuka had gone outside of the city to walk around the mostly tamed forests. The trails were well beaten, even marked, there but Tezuka didn't expect to meet anyone else. Most people preferred to take their single day off for months in the comfort of the safe city.

He wasn't disappointed. He spent several hours climbing the trails, not veering off because he couldn't stay longer than those few hours, before returning. Only when he was just outside of the city did he encounter anyone and he had planned to walk past with a polite 'Hello' and they would both go about their ways, but as they drew closer, Tezuka walking towards the city and the other person walking away from it, Tezuka realized that it was Fuji. They drew closer and he realized that Fuji's eyes, not normally lively but not normally so dead either, were empty and he stopped and waited for Fuji to walk up to him and then turned and walked with Fuji away from the city.

Fuji glanced up at him, incurious and not particularly aware, then kept walking. They walked for a while before Fuji said, "They closed everything for his death, didn't they?"

It took Tezuka a while to realize what Fuji meant; no one thought of the day as a memorial of the king's death. It was only a vacation. "Yes."

They kept walking down the road, not going into the forest but through the farmlands. It was a while before Fuji spoke again. "I had to perform the day that Yuuta died."

Tezuka didn't know who Yuuta was, so he didn't say anything.

"It wouldn't have been so bad if it was just something that... But it was in the town." Fuji's fists clenched. "In the middle of the town. There were soldiers there, too. Imperial soldiers, and they just laughed."

"I'm sorry." Tezuka said, meaning it.

"They were supposed to _protect_ people." Fuji said, barely a whisper. "When I said that, they said we didn't count—we didn't pay the taxes that the king required so we weren't people to protect."

They stopped, in the middle of nowhere. Tezuka could see the farmer's house, barely a dot a while away. The farmer must have been fairly prosperous, Tezuka thought. His lands were certainly extensive enough.

"I couldn't even get to him, there was a crowd around them. No one tried to help." Fuji wasn't crying and he didn't look like he was going to cry. He just looked... empty. "He wasn't breathing when I managed to get to him." He looked at Tezuka, those empty eyes asking silently for something that Tezuka didn't think he could give. "I think it was his neck. I think they broke his neck, and that's why he died. I couldn't tell, though. There were too many bruises..."

Tezuka looked him in the eyes and said the only thing he could think of. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Fuji said.

"I know." Tezuka answered. "I'm sorry."

Fuji didn't look away, but he nodded. Tezuka ended up breaking the look, scared of being pulled into the emptiness that seemed so much fuller than he was. He motioned back to the city, still large in their view even though they had walked so far. "Let's go back, then. I'm sure they're waiting for you."

"Alright." Fuji said, and he let Tezuka lead him back.

-x-

Fuji went to Tezuka's store later that week and didn't even pretend to buy anything. Instead, he leaned against the counter and asked, no greeting or introduction to the topic, "So you're so boring that the girl gave up on you already?"

Tezuka looked at him and saw his smile and wondered if it was real. "Yes."

"Really? Was there really nothing else? She just... thought you were too boring?" Fuji leaned forward, a little conspiratorially. "Was there no great plot behind it?"

Fuji's eagerness reassured Tezuka, calmed him. Fuji wasn't empty right now, he wasn't full of nothing and yet full of everything that Tezuka had ever wanted. "There wasn't." He said firmly.

"That's a pity." Fuji said. "Are you courting a different girl, then?"

"I'm too old to go through girls like that, Fuji." Tezuka frowned.

"Hardly." Fuji said. "You're how old? Twenty? Twenty-five?"

"Twenty-three." Tezuka said.

"See? You're at exactly the perfect age for this sort of thing. You should be courting at least a girl a week." Fuji said, and Tezuka was fairly certain that he was teasing.

"I'm too busy." Tezuka said because, teasing aside, he knew that he was strange for his bizarre lack of interest in the opposite sex.

"Again, you're too young for this." Fuji waved a hand around the shop. "You should be exploring life! Making memories, being adventurous, trying new things! You shouldn't waste your time like this, in charge of a shop."

"And how old are you, that you have such knowledge?" Tezuka said, wryly and in a way too familiar for a stranger he has talked to a sum total of less than ten times.

"Twenty-four." Fuji answered. "See? I'm your elder and you should always listen to the infinite wisdom of your elders."

"Oh?" Tezuka asked, a challenge.

"Indeed. For one thing, when you're with a girl and especially when you're courting her, you always bring flowers." Fuji said seriously.

Tezuka looked at him and was very tempted to roll his eyes because, while Fuji was nice looking enough and smart enough and more than charming enough to enchant girls, he doubted Fuji had ever actually been with a girl. He couldn't say why he thought so, but he did and he was pretty sure that he was right. "Any particular flowers that they prefer?" He was tempted to add on something stupid, like, _oh wise elder mine_ but was able to resist the temptation, but only barely.

"Chrysanthemums." Fuji answered automatically, which only confirmed what Tezuka had thought, because chrysanthemums symbolized death—at least they did in the south. Tezuka wasn't so sure about the north. Perhaps they were romantic there.

"I'll try to remember that next time." Tezuka answered, sounding serious and not really meaning it.

Fuji could tell and he laughed. "Alright, then. And if after a few more nice potential wives you can't find it in yourself to be interesting, I'm always willing to be a fallback plan."

"If all else fails, then." Tezuka agreed, because Fuji's eyes were looking too sharp for that to have been a casual comment and if he had just said what Tezuka thought he just said and if Fuji was what Tezuka had never thought but now assumed, then it must have taken a good deal of courage to say that, even under the pretense of jest.

-x-

It was sudden and unexpected but Tezuka should have seen it coming. She hadn't been that old, but neither had his grandfather and he had died around the same time, she had told him. He had been three, then, but he still remembered the old man sometimes. Sometimes he even dreamed of him, old and wise and always willing to sneak Tezuka a bit of candy when she wasn't looking.

It wasn't even until her funeral that Tezuka realized that she was gone. His mother lay in the casket, not made up and pretty like rich women always were, because she had always hated those things, but encased in black ebony and crimson velvet, because she had always loved those two things. They weren't signs of wealth, she would hold, they were beautiful, in and of their own right.

He couldn't understand what she'd meant, then, seeing her encased in them while the priest read through a book that Tezuka knew he had heard before but still couldn't understand.

Then they closed the lid and lowered her into the ground and Tezuka couldn't move, even when the shoveled dirt over his mother's dead body. They finished and stood around, silent and respectful until, one by one, they trickled away to do things that had to be done. Tezuka didn't notice them leaving.

"It was peaceful." Someone said and why Tezuka could hear him when he hadn't heard anyone else all day was a mystery that he didn't care to wonder about. "She hadn't hurt when she passed away."

Fuji stood next to him, had been standing next to him, Tezuka vaguely remembered. "She's gone." It was all that Tezuka could manage. His eyes were burning and he wanted to cry, but he couldn't. Not here, not in public, not... in front of Fuji.

Fuji looked up at him. "You want to cry." He said, a statement and not a question, because he had to know, Tezuka thought. "It's really hard, isn't it?"

Tezuka only nodded, because if he said anything the tears would fall down and he didn't want them to.

"It'll get better." Fuji said and that was the last thing that Tezuka wanted to hear. "You won't remember..."

"I won't forget." Tezuka said, and a tear slipped down his cheek and he didn't notice because he was _angry_ at Fuji for saying that. He would never forget.

"I know." Fuji said and he lifted a hand up, wiping the tear away. "You won't remember the pain, though. You'll just remember how much she loved you and how much you loved her."

That was it; Tezuka broke down, collapsing on his knees because they couldn't support him anymore. Fuji knelt down next to him and pulled him close, letting Tezuka's tears soak into the soft cotton that he wore.

-x-

Tezuka went back to work the next day, because if he didn't then he didn't know where his customers would buy their supplies from. He stood there, bleary eyed and not quite aware of what went on around him except that someone would give him something and some money and he would give it back to him and put the money away. His assistant watched him and tried to help, but Tezuka shook him away and dealt with the next customer.

Ogata walked in; Tezuka hadn't talked to the old man since the first time. He stood there and then, an hour later, picked up a small pack of candy.

"Five pennies." Tezuka said.

Ogata handed it to him. "Take a break, Tezuka."

Tezuka looked at him, confused, tired, worn.

"Your mother wouldn't want to see you like this." He continued.

"She's not here anymore." Tezuka said.

Ogata nodded. "She's not. Go home. Get some sleep."

"Why?"

"Because you're still here."

Tezuka obeyed.

-x-

Tezuka didn't go back to work the rest of that week. It had only been meant to be for a single week, but he hadn't wanted to go the next week either, or the next. Near the end of the first month, he went out of the city and up his favorite trail and perched himself on a rock that he always went to when he wanted to think.

"Tezuka."

He looked down from his rock to see Fuji, staring up at him.

"Fuji?"

"I've been looking for you." Fuji said, and that was explanation enough. Tezuka moved over, as best he could, and Fuji climbed up, graceful as he always was.

They didn't speak, just sat there and stared off into the forest. Sometime in that not speaking, Fuji gingerly took Tezuka's hand. Tezuka didn't shake him away because he knew how much that could hurt, though he didn't know who he would be hurting more, himself or Fuji. It didn't matter, in the end. He didn't think he had it in him to hurt either one of them anymore.

As the hours passed, Tezuka found himself looking less and less into the forest and more and more at Fuji. It was alright, though, because Fuji had only ever really looked at Tezuka in the first place. Finally, Tezuka broke the silence, "Thank you."

"It's not a problem." Fuji answered.

They didn't talk about the fact that their hands were wrapped together; it didn't need to be said. Instead, Fuji talked about the cities he had been to, the different people he had seen, the thrill of performing in front of people and knowing that he had touched them, and the casual camaraderie in his little group. Tezuka just listened and, when Fuji put his head on Tezuka's shoulder, let go of Fuji's hand.

Fuji started and moved to get off of Tezuka, an apology already forming on his lips, but Tezuka wrapped his arm around Fuji and put his hand on Fuji's opposite shoulder. "Please... Don't move." He said.

Fuji put his head back down and kept talking, but this time, he was talking about where they would go, the people they would see.

He turned to Tezuka, mid-sentence. "Will you come with me?"

Tezuka didn't answer, because he didn't know how to.

"You don't want to stay here anymore." Fuji said. "Anyone can see that. You were only staying for your mother and I had... I had talked to her, before she passed away. She wanted you to come with me. She wanted you to be happy."

Tezuka closed his eyes. "I'll think about it." He said, not sure if he really meant it or not.

-x-

Tezuka had returned to the store and was running it again. The records had been left in a mess and everything was grossly overstocked and under priced and he kept himself busy doing what he had been doing since he had become an adult and the head of his household. He didn't think about it anymore, because there was nothing to think about, and didn't care for it anymore, because there was nothing to think about. He was only providing for himself, anyways. He didn't need the money so badly anymore. There would be no medicines that would need to get bought.

Fuji came in almost daily, standing around idly and not really saying anything but not leaving until he was sure that Tezuka was alright. Tezuka didn't answer him, until one day Fuji said, without preamble, "The period of mourning is over, you know."

Tezuka's head jerked up, because it was unlike Fuji to touch on any sensitive subject so cruelly and he realized that Fuji wasn't talking about Tezuka and about his mother but about Fuji and about Yuuta, who Tezuka still didn't and would never know.

Fuji looked uncomfortable, like he didn't know what to say. "We're... leaving soon."

Tezuka didn't say a word.

"Nee-san says to thank you for letting us use the inn..." Fuji continued, hope only embers in his eyes, nearly put out and only shining because Tezuka had yet to say 'no.' "We'll put everything back like we found it and you won't even know we were here."

Tezuka nodded, thanked them for being such gracious guests, opened the records book again, and the embers died. Fuji forced a smile—so forced, so obvious, or had Tezuka just learned how to read him?—and said "Good bye, then, Tezuka" and turned to leave.

Then Tezuka said, "Who said anything about goodbye?"

And the embers came to life and they were not just embers anymore. 


End file.
